


Tastes Like Almond Strawberry Shortcake

by Xyriath



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Bones, Established Relationship, Fluff, Food Fight, Food Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1842628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Leonard learns that James Tiberius Kirk is actually four years old—and that he's perfectly willing to stoop to Jim's level when it counts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tastes Like Almond Strawberry Shortcake

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt: [Kitchen food fight smut](http://xyriath.co.vu/post/89820243402/kitchen-food-fight-smut-fanfiction-cliche-prompt)

Tastes Like Almond Strawberry Shortcake

“Two eggs?”

“Two egg  whites , Jim.”  Leonard’s tone was exasperated.  “Y’can’t make  meringue with whole eggs!”

“Well excuse me, but I’ve never made  murrrrang before,” Jim shot back, grin stretched across his face as he mimicked Leonard’s drawl.  "I didn't realize it was so specific."

Leonard's expression quickly shifted to match his tone of voice.  "Specific?  It's the most damn specific thing you'll ever make!  You get one bit of fat, one drop'a water in there, and it'll come out flatter'n an old tractor tire."

Jim stared for a moment, smirk still plastered on his face. "Whatever you say, Bones." His eyes slid to the bowl, dry as, well, a bone, and chilled to Leonard’s specifications.  He spun an egg in one hand, then lifted it, as if about to crack it on the edge of the bowl.  “So I  shouldn’t put this in here?”

“Oi!” Leonard’s arm shot out to try to grab the egg from Jim, but Jim jerked his own arm backwards.  Unfortunately, his grip was not especially tight (just as Leonard had feared), and it went sailing away to go splat on the kitchen floor.

“Bones!  Now look what you’ve done!”  Though Jim’s tone was aggrieved, the damn smile hadn’t changed one bit.  Leonard scowled.

“What  I’ve done?  Kid, you ain’t got no one but--”

Leonard’s scolding turned into a yelp as Jim dug a hand into the almond flour, scooped it up, and flung it into his face.

“What the--!”  Leonard’s indignant retort cut off with a hacking cough, and then a sneeze, surprisingly high-pitched for a man of his stature.  Squinting to see through the puff of white powder and trying to blow it back in Jim’s direction, on an impulse, he reached out, scooped up a handful of the powdered sugar, and blew a giant cloud straight at Jim.

His face split into a grin rivaling Jim’s as he heard the laughter turn into an undignified shriek.  Without stopping to think about what in the damn world had come over him, he reached over, dipped his fingers in the chocolate ganache, and reached out to smear it across Jim’s nose and cheek, mixing with the almond flour to create a sticky mess.

“What the fuck, Bones?!”  Jim’s voice was a little desperate now--or shocked; or both, honestly--and Leonard allowed himself a brief moment of glee before Jim’s hand scrambled for the pull-out spray attachment to the sink.

He turned and rolled to the side with a level of agility that surprised him--and probably Jim, too--but it wasn’t quickly enough to avoid a spray of cold water to the side.  Leonard took a step backwards, trying to shake off the dripping water and avoid slipping, but when Jim’s hand reached for the spoon in the strawberry jam and slung it in his direction, he turned and nearly slipped down the kitchen, trying to get out of range.

A sticky glob smacked him in the neck.  “You piece of shit!” he yelped, but gravity finally took its toll and he slipped, falling onto his shoulder and sliding the last few feet past the fridge.  Whirling, he could see Jim running for him, and on an impulse Leonard staggered upwards and grabbed the refrigerator handle, swinging it open right as Jim came barrelling towards him.

“Woah!  Shit!”  Leonard could hear Jim try to scramble to a stop, but the water from the pull-out spray was now working against him: there was a slap of skin on tile, then a loud crash and rattling as Jim smacked facefirst into the inside of the open refrigerator door.

Leonard let out a gleeful cackling as he savored his moment of victory, but after a moment, the complete and total lack of noise from behind the door slightly concerned him.

“Darlin’?” he called cautiously.  “You all right?  Hit your head?”

Instead of a response, however, he merely heard a soft rattling.

It was then that he realized his mistake.

Not only had he encouraged a food fight with James Tiberius Kirk, actual five-year-old, but he had chosen to use the outside of the refrigerator as a shield--thus exposing Jim to the inside.

The man now had a giant arsenal, and Leonard was a sitting duck.

He caught a flash of movement from over the fridge.

The rest seemed to happen in slow motion.  He stumbled back, feet trying to find purchase as Jim popped over the top of the door, a maniacal grin on his face.  Jim lifted his arms, a red can in each hand, and Leonard had just enough time for his eyes to widen and his mouth to open in a perfect “O” of horror before two streams of whipped cream hit him right smack in the face.

“Infant!” he barely managed to choke out around the almost cloyingly sweet foam, word muffled but comprehensible.  Barely.  He lifted his sleeve--the clean one--to wipe it away from his eyes, and he heard the refrigerator door slam before something heavy barrelled into him, a weight settling on top of him as two hands grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the kitchen floor.

Leonard opened his eyes cautiously, then fully when there was no stinging.  He was greeted with a faceful of grinning Jim, practically vibrating with excitement.

“If only th’crew of the Enterprise knew what her captain was gettin’ up to on leave.”

“I don’t think they’d be surprised,” Jim retorted, still grinning.  “However, if they knew what their fearsome Chief Medical Officer was…”

“And you ain’t gonna tell them,” Leonard groused.  “I got a reputation to uphold.”  He wriggled, pushing against Jim and trying to get free.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jim chided gently, leaning down to press a kiss to Leonard’s cheek.  “Loser’s fee, Bones.”

Leonard stared up at him a bit incredulously.  “Seriously?  We’re filthy.”

Jim just grinned.  “Never stopped us before.”

Leonard nearly rolled his eyes at the absolutely abysmal innuendo, but Jim had released his wrists and was tugging his food-covered shirt off.

Jim managed to catch some of the excess whipped cream when he divested him of the clothing, at least, and after he tossed the dripping shirt to the side he was pinning Leonard’s wrists again, leaning down to kiss his mouth, his cheek, his neck, and humming happily.

“Mmm,” he almost sighed.  “Tastes like… almond strawberry shortcake.”

Leonard rolled his eyes and opened his mouth for a sharp retort, but was cut off by an equally sharp nip at his neck and gasped.

“Delicious.”

Leonard squirmed again, no longer trying to get Jim off so much as press up against him.  He felt a warm, almost giddy feeling surge through his stomach, and Jim shifted slightly to press his thigh between Leonard’s, a smirk slowly sliding across his face.

Jim leaned down to kiss him again, and Leonard could taste the faint strawberry and whipped cream and almond on his lips.  He pressed up into Jim again, surprised at how quickly and easily the high energy from the fight turned into arousal, and Jim chuckled against his lips, starting to grind his thigh against Leonard’s crotch.

With a gasp, he pulled his lips away.  “We’re on the kitchen  floor , Jim,” he sputtered out in protest, not really expecting it to make a difference.  To his surprise, Jim released his arms, pushing himself slightly off the floor--and off Leonard.  For a moment, he thought he had made a mistake.

“You’re right, Bones,” Jim mused, tilting his head and eyeing Leonard before scrambling to his feet.  He reached down, and Leonard took his outstretched hand, letting himself get yanked up--and then Jim was crowding him against the cupboards, kissing the hell out of him again.

He wrapped his arms around Jim’s neck, tilting his head and opening his mouth as their tongues swept past each other, tangling lightly around soft moans.  Jim’s hands--sticky, but Leonard couldn’t bring himself to care--slid down Leonard’s sides, lingered on his ass with a brief squeeze, then settled behind his thighs, tugging slightly as he made a soft sound of effort.

“Up, Bones,” he mumbled against his lips before resuming the kiss.  Leonard nearly protested something about butts on the counter and how damned  unsanitary that was, but then Jim’s strong fingers were gripping his thighs and lifting him, and he decided that he’d rather settle there, obligingly, wrapping his legs around Jim and pulling him closer as they ground their clothed erections together.

But then Jim pulled away suddenly, and Leonard couldn’t help but make a protesting noise and glare at him with reproach.

“Just a second, Bones,” Jim managed to gasp out breathlessly, reaching up to open a cabinet and fumble around inside, the other hand fumbling at the button on Leonard’s pants.  Leonard could take a hint: he swatted Jim’s hand away, quickly undoing them and sliding them and his underwear off his hips, finishing shimmying out right as Jim pulled the olive oil out of the cabinet.

Leonard eyed it for a moment, weighing their options, but then shrugged.  The lube was all the way back in the bedroom, they rarely used condoms these days, and while it wasn’t ideal, it wasn’t a horrible choice, either.  Instead, he concerned himself with the button on Jim’s pants as Jim stripped his own shirt off.

After shoving the pants down around his thighs, Leonard murmured appreciatively at the sight.  He reached out to curl his hands around Jim’s cock, running his fingers lightly up it, then slid his hands up Jim’s abdomen and chest, fingers brushing over hair and ribs and freckles.  He gasped when Jim wrapped an arm around his waist, yanking him forward and tilting him back slightly, and made a shocked noise when two slick fingers pressed inside of him.

“Shit!” he yelped, wondering when he had missed Jim applying the oil, and wrapped his legs around Jim’s torso, legs so high that his knees nearly reached Jim’s shoulders.  He closed his eyes as Jim’s fingers worked, quick and experienced, the tight muscles around them relaxing as he sighed contentedly, letting out a soft moan as they pressed up against that wonderful spot inside of him.  He felt a pressure against his forehead, and opened his eyes to see that Jim’s, brilliant blue and narrowed with affection, were barely an inch away from his.  He felt the corner of his mouth tug upwards as he smirked upwards, leaning forward to let his lips hover in front of Jim’s teasingly for a moment before committing to the kiss, starting soft and increasing the pressure, the intensity.  He drew back for a moment, eliciting a protesting noise from Jim, but moved his lips to the corner of Jim’s mouth, pressing light kisses against it and further up his cheek until he reached the ganache from earlier, flicking his tongue out to lick some of it into his mouth.  It was a very good ganache; Jim had done well, and the rich chocolate flavor with a hint of coffee combined with the taste of Jim to produce something rather intoxicating.

“Mmm.  Tastes like…”  He grinned, nose brushing Jim’s cheekbone, not caring that he was smearing whipped cream on both their faces.  “Cocky little asshole.”

“Yeah,” Jim shot back, voice slightly hoarse.  “But you  like the taste of asshole, Bones.”

And then he planted his hand in the middle of Leonard’s chest, shoving him backwards so he was laying flat on the counter, grabbing one of his calves and hoisting it over his shoulder, bending the leg slightly at the knee, and tucking the other between his arm and his ribcage.

“You’re a mess,” Jim laughed, leaning forward, forcing Leonard’s leg upward as he kissed, then licked, some of the whipped cream off of his chest.

"Whose fault is that?"  But there was no bite in the breathless retort, and Leonard threaded his fingers through Jim's hair and pulled him up to tangle their tongues together again, tasting the whipped cream and smiling faintly against Jim's lips.

Leonard squirmed but didn’t protest when he slid his fingers mostly out, then pushed back in, gasping against him as he curled them again.  He could feel himself tense around them, body ready and practically pulling Jim inside of him, but the damn kid was such a tease—

And without warning, Jim tugged them out, all the way this time, and wiped them on his jeans before reaching between them and stroking himself.  He pulled back and grinned, watching Leonard watch him as he coated his cock with glistening olive oil.  Leonard lifted his leg slightly, as far as it would go, hazel eyes glaring at him reproachfully.

"Be patient, Bones," he murmured, voice almost sing-song as his wrist continued to move slowly.  Leonard swallowed, eyes locked on the sight, flushed cock surrounded by a thatch of pale hair, firm and familiar and goddammit, Leonard wanted it inside him  right now.

“Jim!” he managed to gasp out, reproach turning into near desperation.  One blonde eyebrow cocked as the blue eyes below stared down at him, then the crinkles at the corner deepened as he smiled and leaned forward to kiss Leonard’s forehead.

Leonard felt the steady pressure against his hole, felt the wide stretch as he opened to accommodate the head of Jim's cock, then the slow but firm slide as Jim pressed into him, drawing a long, low moan from Leonard's throat.

"See?" Jim breathed, chest heaving from repressed movement.  "Patient is good."

Leonard just made a strangled noise and jerked his hips slightly.  And that’s when Jim pulled back and thrust.

Leonard’s hand reached up to grip the arm that had pinned his leg, digging his nails into it and yelping as Jim thrust a few more times, too jerky to be a steady rhythm but enough to draw a few colorful curses from Leonard’s lips.  He gasped and closed his eyes as Jim continued, crying out when he hit that sweet spot and every time after.

“Fuck--god, Jim!” he barely managed to get out, voice cracking, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes as he curled his pinned leg as much as he could, tugging Jim forward, deeper.  He wasn’t going to last long, he knew that, not the way Jim was teasing, pressing every goddamn button he had.

Jim just laughed softly and thrust again, harder, not quite hard enough to hurt, but Leonard felt himself sliding slightly across the counter--and he couldn’t give a damn.  Jim kept doing this, the bastard, uneven strokes that taunted Leonard with what they could be but weren’t… quite.

“You know… you know what this means?” Jim panted above him, finally starting up a rough rhythm, pounding into Leonard with a soft slapping noise.  He tried to respond, looked up at Jim with half-lidded eyes and gasped in the air for words, but could only manage a soft whimper.

“It means…”  Jim let out a soft, breathy laugh as his grin grew wider.  Leonard could feel his orgasm coming, feel his balls drawing up and tightening.  “It means I won the food fight.”

Leonard tried to protest, tried to snap up at him that he was being a little shit and something else equally biting, but then Jim’s cock hit just the right spot, and the last thing Leonard saw before his orgasm whited out his vision was Jim grinning as Leonard’s come shot over both of their chests.


End file.
